With a time of 2 hours, 7 minutes, and 46 seconds, Robert Cheruiyot won his 4th men's title in the Boston Marathon. This marks the 15th time in 17 years that a Kenyan has won the men's title in the world's oldest annual marathon.
15 out of 17, people. That's 88% of our marathons in nearly two decades of competition. Can anyone who lives in this great Commonwealth say that this isn't overkill? Obviously, the Republic of Kenya is making a mockery of our most treasured sporting event, but not only that, they are also ridiculing the machismo of the fine men of Boston. These Kenyanese are showing about the same amount of respect Clubber Lang showed Rocky Balboa during his outdoor press conference. Sure, Clubber went on to allude that he could sexually satisfy Adrian in a way the Italian Stallion never could, but if the women of Boston aren't at least a little bit intrigued by the stamina of Kenyan men displayed in these past marathons, then my name wasn't legally changed to Robert. Which it was.
The manliness of Boston has been under fire as of late. Our football team is lead by a man so metrosexual, he probably wears pads during the off season. Hollywood has invaded us en masse, bringing with it all the high maintenance features of LA; its non-dairy lattes, its conspicuous fashion, its spray-on tans. Papi's in a slump. Fair-weather fans are watching the Celtics. And even the Pope skipped Boston because we're a bunch of cry-baby alter boys.
And now Kenya is taking its annual turn at giving us a public wedgie in front of all of our Boston women. The very same women that we're juuuuuust starting to notice again now that the weather's warm and they're sporting a lot less clothing. We see you ladies cheering at the marathon. You're looking good. But you're not paying attention to us, are you? No, you're looking at the sweaty man at the head of the pack, watching his powerful legs pumping tirelessly against the pavement, chest puffed out not from breaths but from the vast ego swelling up inside. Kenya's got your phone number, and we do not like them imported apples one bit.
But men of Boston, there is a way to fight back. If these Kenyanese can show us up on our turf, by golly we can show them up on theirs. Specifically, we should beat the Maasai at their own game. That's right, let's show up Kenya's famed semi-nomadic ethnic group at all the events that they excel at. According to Wikipedia, the Maasai regularly drink cows' blood, hunt lions, stretch out their ear lobes, and perform ritualistic female circumcision. Now, I see opportunities for us to best them at at least 3 out of 4 of those things. And how do you think the hot female Massaias will react when they see a bunch of Bostonian manly men pound more cow blood than they've ever seen? Obviously, they'll want to follow us back to America, even if they would have to leave behind their cushy lives in abject poverty, high infant mortality rates, and ritualistic female circumcision.
So let the Kenyan males dominate the Boston Marathon for another 15 out of 17 years. The men of Boston will be running a whole other race. The race to win over the hearts of their women on their own land. It might take a while for us to get ready to do so, but always remember: slow and steady wins the race. And that is one race-ism that you can believe in.